Mending Broken Bridges
by ravengal
Summary: After the events of Buon San Valentino, a confused Italy tries to patch things up with Germany.


Author's note: Hi there.

I thought I'd try my hand at writing a Hetalia fic, since I really love this anime. Try not to kill me, please. XD

I, personally, watched most of the anime in English, so this fic will contain accents. You have been warned. Lol.

Hmm. This fic's much shorter than I would have liked, but I hope you like it anyway!

P.S. I thought about it and realised that Italy's accent was way too strong before, so I softened it a bit. I don't want to erase it completely, but I listen to any and all feedback. Thanks!

* * *

**Mending Broken Bridges**

As Germany's knees collapsed to the floor, next to the heliotropes and ring, Italy struggled to hold him up. The man had stopped functioning completely.

"Germany!" Italy yelled frantically. "Germany! Speak-a to me, Germany!"

He shook him over and over again, his anxiety rising with every movement. Why wasn't he responding? And what had he meant by that last statement? Nothing was making any sense!

He tried to ignore the waiter, who was having a disgusted seizure behind him, and focused on his friend. Just what was going on?

* * *

Eventually, he had to send the semi-comatose man home in a taxi. While waiting for the taxi to arrive, Germany spent the rest of the night staring blankly into the distance. Once it did arrive, Italy had to haul the much taller, bulkier man inside. It took a lot more effort than he was used to.

He made to close the door, then paused. "You can-a handle the fare, can't you, Germany?" he asked.

He received no response for a few moments, Germany still staring straight ahead of him. Then he gave the smallest of nods.

"Okay, well... have a nice-a night!"

Again, he received no response.

* * *

That night, Italy couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, running through every possible explanation in his mind. Why had Germany been acting so weird? Why the flowers? Why the ring? Why had he broken down and stopped talking to him? And what the raging ravioli had he meant by the last thing he'd said? He pondered these things for what felt like hours.

Eventually, an answer popped into his head. He sat bolt upright in bed with a smile. "That's it!" he cried.

"Oh, _shut up_!" his brother, Romano, yelled, punching him on the head. "You noisy bastard! Can't you see I'm-a trying to sleep?"

"Ouch..." He rubbed his bruised head. "Sorry..."

* * *

The following day, Italy ran to the training ground with a bright smile on his face. Once he saw Germany, he happily ran over to him, one arm hidden behind his back.

"Hey, Germany!" he said. "Good-a morning!"

Germany looked at him and only now could he see that the man looked rather worse for wear.

"Oh..." Germany replied, "guten morgen, Italy..."

"You don't look-a so good..."

Germany looked away, his hand on his head. "Ja... I have a hangover..."

"Oh."

"Zerefore, zere vill be no training today."

Italy tilted his head. "Really? No training?"

"Nein. Just... go home, or vhatever." Germany began walking away.

"Wait!" Italy flailed his free arm around. "Before you go, I have-a something for you!"

Germany looked at him, just barely. "Ja?"

"Well, you know yesterday, when you said... What-a was it?... That you wanted us to come-a together as one?"

Germany's face visibly froze.

"Well, I spent allllll night wondering what you could have meant-a by that... and, when I realised, I felt-a so stupid!" He conked himself on the head with a smile. "So..." He reached behind him and pulled out a pen and paper. "Here!"

"... Vhat is zat?"

"An alliance paper! You wanted to form an alliance-a, right? I mean, why else would-a you want us to come together?"

Germany stared at him for a minute, then heaved a sigh. "Just... forget I said anyzing, alright?"

Italy's face drooped. "Aww... you don't-a want to form an alliance anymore?" He smiled, waving the paper around. "But I made the contract and everything! See?" He pointed to the paper with the pen. "You can make any alliance you want! Do you want to become better friends?"

Germany growled to himself, pushing past Italy and storming off. "I said forget it!"

"But... Germany..."

As he watched the man's retreating back, he couldn't help wonder what he'd done wrong.

"Huh... I was sure that-a was what he meant..." He paused in thought. "But, if it wasn't... then it kinda sounded like a really crappy proposal..."

He paused again, then laughed to himself. Yeah, right. As if Germany would be proposing to _him_. Sure, they were BFFs, but this was frigging _Germany_ he was talking about.

He did love the man – very much, in fact – but he knew he'd never be to his tastes. He was okay with that, though. He was happy just being around him, whether on the training grounds, on the battlefield or in Germany's bed.

Oh, he liked girls too, but Germany was very special to him. He protected him, looked out for him and, although he could be a bit rough sometimes, he knew the man meant well. After all, they'd only continued to get closer after their pinky-swear.

Hell, he'd always liked Germany, really. Even in the early days, when all he'd do was complain about his uselessness and beat him up. He was much nicer these days, though.

If only he knew what was bothering him...

* * *

Germany sat on the couch, his head in his hands. His brain was throbbing beneath his temples. He honestly couldn't believe what a fool he'd made of himself the day before. He was quite used to following instructions by the book, almost religiously so, but the book he'd chosen had turned out to be less than ideal. 'I want us to come together as one'? Really? He'd actually _trusted_ that advice?

When he'd returned home by taxi that night, practically comatose, he'd picked up the book and stared at it for a while. Eventually, he'd boiled over from the anger and embarrassment and had promptly tossed it across the room.

Once Hungary had figured out that he'd actually taken advice from this book, she'd burst into fits of laughter. It had taken her a while to calm down and, all the while, Germany had spent his time moping in the corner.

Once she'd stopped laughing, she'd asked him how much advice he'd actually taken from the book. When he'd told her he'd gotten all the way to the last page, she'd suddenly gone quiet, exchanging an awkward glance with Austria. She'd left soon afterwards.

The rest of the night had been spent at the local bar, with Austria buying him pint after pint of his favourite German beer. It had been rather impressive, in a way, since Austria was known to be rather stingy with his money. It spoke volumes about how pitiful he must have looked to the man.

Germany could recall getting rather wasted. He'd even cried at one point, which was yet another embarrassing thing to add to his list. Thankfully, Austria hadn't asked any questions and had, instead, awkwardly patted him on the shoulder.

He wasn't sure he could face Italy again, but he had to pretend nothing was wrong. He had his pride, after all, so he wasn't going to let this get to him. They would remain friends, no matter how big a hole he'd dug himself into.

Friends. He used to be happy referring to Italy as his friend. The last week, however, had altered his opinion on the matter.

No, that wasn't it. He'd spent a long time feeling... _something_ towards the smaller man. He'd just never stopped to really think about what that feeling was.

He used to hate him. Back when they'd first met, he'd wanted nothing to do with him at all. Yet the persistent bastard had always kept coming back, refusing to leave him alone. Somewhere along the line, he'd grown attached to him. The day he'd said 'Ich liebe dich' to him, he'd really meant it.

Now, however... the Valentine's Day fiasco had put a new spin on those familiar feelings that he'd once assumed were friendship.

If only he hadn't made a colossal fool of himself while discovering that...

* * *

The next day, Germany arrived at the training grounds early, as always. He didn't expect to see Italy for at least another hour, so he got to work running laps by himself.

Two hours later, Italy finally showed up, waving and smiling.

"Germany!" he said. "Buongiorno!"

"Ja..." Germany replied, just barely able to look at his friend. "Guten morgen."

"Are-a you feeling better today, Germany?"

"Ja. I'm sorry for ze trouble of late. I've... not been myself lately..."

"Yeah, I noticed! But that's okay! We all-a have our off days."

"Danke..."

"Are we still-a friends?"

"Ja." Germany gave him a small smile. "Ve are."

"Evviva! I'm-a so happy!" He held out his pinky finger. "Let's-a renew our pinky-swear!"

Germany's eyes widened. "Uh... ja, sure..." He held out his own pinky finger and linked it with Italy's.

He smiled warmly at the goofy Italian's bright smile. This guy surely was one in a million. How he'd managed to melt the heart of a proud German was beyond him.

After a moment, he jolted in surprise when he saw the tomato ring on Italy's finger. His face turned red.

"Vh... Vh..."

Italy tilted his head at him, still smiling. "Hmm?"

Embarrassment gave way to anger. "_Vhy are you vearing zat_?"

The smile became a look of confusion. "Huh? Wearing what?"

Germany grabbed Italy's hand and thrust it into the man's face. "_Zis_! What ze holy hell are you doing _vearing_ zis?"

Italy smiled again. "Oh, that! Well, it was a present from _you,_ so of course I'm-a wearing it!"

"But..." Germany put his free hand to his face in embarrassment, barely looking at Italy. "But I told you to forget about... zat night..."

"I know, but you were being so nice and seemed-a so sincere! It's a very thoughtful gift!"

"Uh... you're velcome..."

"If I didn't-a know any better, I'd say it was an engagement-a ring!"

Germany was sure his vital organs had all plummeted into his stomach at once. Suddenly, anger took over. "D-Don't be such a dummkopf!"

Italy merely chuckled. "Can I still-a wear it, though?"

Germany was silent for a few moments as he observed the happy smile on the smaller man's face. Eventually, he broke into a tender smile of his own. "Ja... you can vear it all you vant."

"Really?"

"Ja."

Italy let go of Germany's hand and threw his arms in the air. "Yahoo! I want to go and show everybody!"

Germany's blood ran cold. "Vait... vhat?"

"Who should I show first? Oh, maybe Big-a Brother France! Or maybe Romano! Or Japan! They'll be so jealous of-a my pretty ring!" He ran off.

"Hey, vait! Italy! _Italyyyy_!"

**The End**


End file.
